Fairytale
by RinRan
Summary: I’ve always truly loved Arthur since the day I first laid eyes on him. Things were difficult, however; for one thing, the person I’ve fallen for was another boy. AU USxUK or Joker fic, set in the American Revolution time period.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** An AU Joker fic of sorts, starring patriot!America and loyalist!England before, during, and after the American Revolution. France and Germany is due to appear as well.

I've got my trusty "If You: Lived at the time of the American Revolution" book right by my side. Oh, and the story's accompanied by the song "Fairytale" by Alexander Rybak. Enjoy.

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**~ Fairytale ~**

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I've always truly loved Arthur since the day I first laid eyes on him. Things were difficult, however; for one thing, the person I've fallen for was another boy.

The second most difficult thing about this was that he was also a complete and utter stuck-up jerk. But I suppose that was what had drawn me to him in the first place.

And then, there's the third...But really, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let me tell you from the beginning; it was a bright and sunny morning as I went down to the workshop. You see, my father was a silversmith, just one of many in the great port city of Boston. As his only son-well, living with him, anyhow-I was expected to follow in his footsteps. Well, I supposed there was always the shipbuilding business...But never mind that.

So, I was down at the workshop to make a last minute checkup on the latest order-a pitcher for some fancy bureaucrat living uptown. Mind you, this was the handiwork of yours truly.

...All right, maybe it was mostly Father's, but it was I who had put on the finer details. Note the fine, intricate patterns that were painstakingly carved onto the handle and lid, the delicate curvature of the spout-the sheer radiating awesomeness of it all. Give me a year-no, a couple of months, and I should be able to surpass Father, maybe even Mr. Revere.

...Make that a year, then.

Where was I again? Oh, right, the check up. Within minutes of inspection, one of Father's hired hands called me. It seemed that Father had requested my presence and I had no choice but to answer. If Lady Luck was on my side, I bet it was potential customer requesting my service.

...Father's service. But my day will come, mark my word!

I sighed and packed the pitcher with utmost care, then handed it to the man for him to deliver. Then, I quickly headed up back to my room (conveniently in the back of the house, right across from the workshop), tidied up, and then headed down to the parlor where Father and the guest waited.

Correction-_guests_. I forgot that _his_ father was there too.

"Ah, Alfred," Father beamed at me. "About time you've come to join us. I would like you to meet Lord Kirkland here." He gestured to the large man sitting across from us. I could tell instantly he was the real deal, not like the silly bureaucrat uptown who was sent here to Boston because he was demoted. This man here definitely had an aristocratic air about him. And no, it wasn't the fancy clothing, finely powdered wig, or jewel encrusted cane that tipped me off.

"How do you do?" Lord Kirkland replied, nodding in consent to my bow. "Master Alfred, is it? I've heard much of you from Georgie here over the past years."

"Kirkland and I were once schoolmates back in London," Father said with a smile. "He and I would have been partners in the shipping trade, had I not move here to the New World and established myself as a silversmith."

"Shame, really. There was plenty of money in the business, George, and you would have been sitting in the lap of luxury for years to come."

"True, but you always did have an edge on me, Fred old boy, being already a part of the lap of luxury."

The two old men laughed together as they went on to joke and reminisce about old times, and all the while I listened. Or tried to. There was one minor distraction, which just so happened to be sitting right across from me. The other guest, a boy about my age, sat with his legs crossed and arms folded, clearly not wanting to be here. What I found so amusing was that despite his neat and tidy dressing (I mean, those boots and buttons were polished. It was practically blinding how the dim lighting in the room reflected off of them. And those pants-completely creaseless!), his flaxen hair stuck out in awkward angles. Like the guy had never heard the concept of brushing. Or a barber. Boy, were those eyebrows pretty big too. I mean, they could be an entity of their own.

...I wanted to pat his head and call him "Scruffy" for looking so much like that poor stray that hanged around the harbor.

Apparently, he must have caught me staring at him for he then gave me the meanest scowl I've ever seen. But then I caught sight of another detail of his, and for some reason, just for a moment, my breathing faltered. Such large and brilliant green eyes. Not even grasses or trees here grew that shade of green.

"...fred? Alfred?" A hand tapped my shoulder. I quickly snapped back to reality and noticed my father and the others staring at me. "Did you hear what I had just said?"

"Wha-what, sir?"

Father sighed and then smiled apologetically to his friend. "He's a good lad, though a bit slow at times." Lord Kirkland gave a good-natured chuckle and Father turned his attention back to me. "I said that I thought it would be best if you were to entertain Master Arthur for the time being while Lord Kirkland and I go over the plans on what would be best for him to take back with him to present to his lady back home."

"Mary Anne is dreadfully frightened of the New World," explained Lord Kirkland with a sniff, "she thinks it's much too uncivilized. Shame, really, considering that there are such lovely properties here, particular in the Southern colonies."

"I believe that she'll sing a different tune once she sees the handiwork I've come up with," Father assured. "Only the finest befitting of nobility, created from these capable, English hands." He spread out his hands and wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point. Lord Kirkland merely shook his head and laughed, and got up to follow Father into his study. The two bade us good day, and then closed the door behind them.

And...now the awkward silence.

"Soooooooo..." I began, dragging out the syllable out as much as I can as I try to come up with something to "entertain" my guest. Unfortunately, my lung doesn't hold as much air as I had thought. Oh well, let's start over then. "Sooooooooooooo..." Normally, I wouldn't be this nervous, but there was something unnerving about the other boy. Maybe it was the way he stared at me with those emerald green eyes, trying to glare a hole into my forehead or the like. Maybe it was the way he postured himself, trying to as if distance himself from me by keeping to himself, even though he was no more than three feet directly across from me. Or maybe it was the fact that he was nobility, being _Lord_ Kirkland's son and all, and that if I were to-hypothetically speaking-get on his bad side-that would possibly mean one less patron (not to mention friend) for Father. And that would be very bad, considering the recent raise in taxes all over the colonies nowadays... "Soooooooooooooooooooooo-"

"Shut up, you bloody git!" the boy suddenly snapped. My eyes widened as I almost fell out my seat.

...Okay, definitely not off to a good start. Quick, think of something witty-something to get back on the right track- "Um...uh...so...Your name is Arthur, correct? Hi, I'm Alfred." I smiled my brightest smile and stuck my hand out as a show of good faith. Genius, Alfred. Genius. Introductions were always considered decorum.

He stared at me as if I had three heads growing on top of one another. "That's 'Master' Arthur to you," he replied lowly, "git." He leaned in and narrowed his eyes as he sounded the last word. I retracted my hand and involuntarily leaned back into my seat. Despite his small stature, the boy had quite a menacing aura about him. I blamed the eyebrows.

"Arthur-"

"MASTER Arthur," he snapped again. I felt my smile slowly becoming strained. Aristocracy or not, the boy needed to taught some serious manners.

"..._Artie_," I said, "I'm pretty sure we've gotten off to a bad start, and for that I sincerely apologize." Now that I had thought about it, what the hell was I apologizing for? He started it. But, as Father liked to say, 'better there be one child than two in an argument'. When Arthur merely looked at me, I continued, "So, about your father...Is he here on business?"

"That's none of your business," he replied as he decided to look out of the window, shunning me.

I closed my eyes and tapped my head meditatively, trying to think off something else to say, since the father card didn't really start a conversation. "...So, how do you like Boston? It's a bit different from London, I understa-"

"That's none of your concern."

...Now I felt like strangling him. I quickly blurted out the first thing in my head, anything to keep those homicidal urges from further rising, "...Any girlfriends?"

Arthur snapped his attention back to me and raised a thick, bushy eyebrow. I felt my own eyebrows rose as well when I realized what I had just asked. Where DID that question come from?

"What?"

I laughed. Well, at least he didn't rebuke it like he did to the other two. "You know, any lady friends in your life?" Arthur turned away. Oh look, was it my imagination or does _Master_ Arthur looked a little flustered? Now maybe I'll be able to pry at least some information out of him. I got up, crossed over, and casually plopped down next to him, much to his shock and my amusement. I decided to prod further, "Come now, you must have some! Even looking like you are-"

"What?!" Arthur practically jumped up. He gave me a mixed look of incredulity and anger as he seethed, "And what exactly are you implying, sir?"

I stared at him in wonder. How could he not know, especially when the answer is practically taking up his forehead? "You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" he returned crossly. That's another thing I had found so interesting about him – how can anyone be so angry and moody for a majority of their personality? Doesn't his head hurt from getting all worked up and the building pressure?

"You know..." I stood up as well, and was surprised at his shortness. Maybe that's why he held a grudge against me, considering that I was a good head taller than he was. I leaned in, causing him to involuntarily lean back, and poked one of his caterpillar eyebrows. "These."

Surprisingly, they were rather fine to the touch.

Arthur seemed to crumble beneath my touch. He then turned a violent shade of pink and immediately yelled at me, his voice slightly higher, "Stupid, bloody git! What do my eyebrows have to do with anything, let alone getting girls!? I'll have you know it's a common mark of a gentleman, and-"

I laughed nervously at his outbreak, and immediately darted my eyes toward the study door. "All right, all right, I'm sorry about that comment. Please, a little quieter?"

"-hate this godforsaken land. Not an ounce or shred of civility; you commoners seem to forgotten what it takes to be English. My eyebrows should be the LEAST of your concerns-"

...Is he still going on about the eyebrows? I glanced wearily back and forth between the raging blond in front of me and the closed study door. Arthur's constant yelling was beginning to make me feel giddy. Quick, Alfred, for the sake of everyone's-especially yours-peace of mind, think of a way to shut him up!

I grasped Arthur, still haranguing away, firmly by his arms. For a split moment he stared at me with widened eyes before that look was replaced by another fierce glare, and his mouth opened to shout at me (probably along the lines of, "What do you think you're doing?" or "Unhand me, you stupid git!"). But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of saying anything anymore. Before any words could escape his lips, I immediately crashed my mouth onto his.

Ah, blissful silence. How I sincerely swear to never take you for granted again.

...Wait a moment...

My eyes locked with shocked green ones at a dangerously close distance. I then felt the smaller lad quivering violently, trying to break out of my hold. I let go, and was immediately pushed away, breaking off our locking mouths and allowing us to draw breaths for the first time. For such a little guy, Arthur was rather rough; I have a feeling there's going to be a small bruise in the morning. As I rubbed the to-be bruise on my chest, I glanced at Arthur. He was coughing and muttering incoherent curses beneath his breath. He then wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned to me. Instead of the predictable look of anger, his face was strangely impassive. Then, without a word, he straightened himself, walked up to me, and slapped me squarely across my right cheek before turning away and leaving my house. And all I could do was stare after him, one hand on my chest, the other on my cheek, with a dumbfounded look on my face.

"What..."

The study door slammed open and hearty laughter streamed out, filling the once silent room. Father and Lord Kirkland continued their discussion before they finally took notice of me. "Ah, Alfred," exclaimed Father, smiling broadly, "having fun?"

"As if," I groaned inwardly, nodding a greeting to them both, and retired upstairs to my room.

There was a moment of silence, as if they were trying to figure out my message. However, the talking and laughter then resumed, and continued on for another good hour.

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Reviews are indeed loved. First fic back after hiatus. X3


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, that last chapter completely ran off on its own. It wasn't supposed to be that way, but it did. Bad Alfred – you weren't supposed to pull a Junjo Minimum!

...Anyways, here's continuing to what was SUPPOSED to happen, and more stuff. This time, a funny little song called "Funny Little World" by Alexander Rybak is playing in the background.

(P.S.: I apologize for the long delay. Let's just say this will be updated every two weeks or sooner, or something along the line...)

Enjoy~

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**~ Fairytale ~**

* * *

The next morning, I woke up to a stinging sensation on my right cheek. Wondering what could have caused it I shuffled groggily over to the mirror over my wash basin and inspected my face. It was faint, but the whole cheek was nearly covered by a large bruise. Then it hit me.

_Ikisseda__boyIkissedaboyIkissedaboy –_

I felt my face grew warm and quickly I clamped my hands over my face, though unfortunately a little too hard as my sensitized cheek started to sting again. I moaned, slightly from the pain but mostly from the sheer embarrassment I felt remembering that particular detail from yesterday. I'm not sure as to what consequences may occur from my...action, but I was pretty sure of two things:

One: that Arthur fellow certainly must have had the fright of his life. After all, lip-locking among males wasn't exactly acceptable, at least to my knowledge. I remember the one time I kissed Matthew before his going away, and I had gotten a good licking from Father...But I digress.

And two: his lips were rather warm and soft, if I remembered correctly.

Again I felt my face growing warm, and quickly splashed cold water from the wash basin onto my face. As I tried to dab my face dry as gently as I possibly could (lest to irritate the smarting bruise), I found myself replaying yesterday's events in my mind. The whole first meeting to the teasing to the –

...I wonder, is he thinking about this as well? When I had kissed a girl (and usually it was at one of the many parties held at the governor's house; the only reason why my humble Father and I were invited was because he was our patron), I never dwell much on the matter, let alone remember her name the following day. And yet, here I am fretting and worrying over THAT and HIM as if I had committed some kind of murder!

...Or a sin. Nah, I'm pretty sure kissing isn't considered so bad nowadays. There are some religious fanatics still around from the older generation, but I sure one little kiss isn't that much of a deal. Right, there you go Alfred; you're worrying yourself over nothing! It was just an incident you had no power over and had acted without thinking – it wasn't your fault in the slightest.

I smiled and winked at my own reflection. I had a feeling that today was going to be a good day, no doubt about it.

------

"It's all your fault, you stupid git," Arthur practically yelled at me from out of nowhere when I went down to the workshop later. I was actually more surprised by the fact of how this situation was a complete irony to a thought I had earlier than the fact that he was actually here in front of me, in person, for apparently no reason. Or so I had thought.

"Good morning to you too,_ Artie_," I replied back with a big smile on my face. Apparently he's not much for cheery greetings because he immediately furrowed his great big brows and stared daggers at me as I went to unlock the doors. After fumbling with the keys purposely (it was unbelievable – I didn't think anyone could look more feral while being kept waiting than an actual...well, feral animal), I finally pushed opened the doors and motioned to follow. I could practically feel his stare burning onto my neck as he followed me in. "So, how may I help you today?"

"I didn't came here for you," he muttered, those green eyes of his wandering around, probably inspecting the workshop. "I came here for your father."

I smiled as professionally as I possibly could. "I'm sorry, but Father is still asleep – he probably stayed up all night working on the designs and won't be up till midday. But, as you can see, I'm here, so if it's about your father's order-"

"Well, if he's not up, then I suppose you're just wasting my time," Arthur returned just as politely. He gave a dissatisfied sigh and turned away. "I'll come by later. Good day, Mr. Jones."

"Wait." I reached out and grabbed his arm, and he flinched. I wondered why he would do that...but I had other things to ask, to say. The ones that bugged me the most like an itch that can't be scratch had to deal with yesterday, so I said them first. "Uh, hey...about, um, yesterday..." ...What was I going to say next? I had it all planned out in my head before leaving my room for what to say when I see him-if I were to see him-and here's Arthur, so-aagh, Alfred, don't make this a repeat of yesterday!!!

Meanwhile, Arthur was waiting and listening. If I wasn't too busy trying to sort out my thoughts at the last minute, I would have probably noticed his ears turning a light shade of pink. And he answered before I even had the chance to say. "...It's alright."

I looked down at him. He repeated again, surprisingly with all harshness absent from his tone, "It's alright. About yesterday. I acted like a fool as well, rudely and improperly."

...Huh. I didn't know he was a mind reader. I realized only then that I had been holding onto his arm at such a weird angle and quickly let go. Arthur rubbed his arm, but still refused to look at me. I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck, wondering what to say next. "...So...um, do you hate me?"

I mentally slapped myself; as if the situation wasn't awkward enough, Alfred. I imagined that if Mattie was here, he probably be scolding me for being tactless. Sorry, Mattie – your older brother still lacks in that department, unfortunately. Arthur's ears turned a darker shade, and he broke me out of my daydream, asking, "Wh-what do you mean by that?"

"Well...it's just that...you were really hostile to me in the beginning. I thought I must have offended you, and if I did-" I gave a sigh. Why am I trying to apologize to him anyway, when it was his fault to begin with? Every time I'm around this guy, nothing seemed to make any sense.

We stayed silent for the next few moments, before Arthur spoke up. "...Father said that I'm no good when it comes to meeting others," he admitted quietly. "He said it's shyness – it's the same with Mother too, or so he says."

I felt myself cringing. If that's how he is when he's shy-throwing insults and violently cursing with a mouth to rival sailors-I'm afraid to see him when he's angry. "You know, you can turn around and face me – it's kind of hard to hear you when you're facing the other way."

"I prefer it to be this way, thanks," he replied back, only a bit louder.

"Still can't hear you~..."

"How about now?! Are you deaf as you are stupid?" Arthur snapped, finally turning to face me. He then gasped at realization, and quickly turned away. I laughed when I caught sight of his face; the poor fellow was as red as a tomato.

"Guess you are quite the shy fellow, aren't you?" I teased. I laughed again when his ears turned even darker as if in response.

"Sh-shut up!"

"Oh, there, there," I cooed at him as I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to me. Arthur flinched again and turned even redder. I grinned, guessing at what was going through his mind that would cause him to darken (that, and the fact that his hand was raised slightly, ready to swat in defense). "Don't worry, I'm not going to _that_," I assured him, "but I am going to do this!" I brought him in close into an embrace. "A hug can make anyone feel better!" I could feel his body going rigid and for some reason that made me laughed inwardly.

"Wh-what's so funny, you git?" I heard him mumble into ear.

"Nothing. But you should be a bit looser." I gave him a hearty pat on the back and then broke off. Smiling, I asked, "So, don't you feel much better?"

"...better..." Pfft, right. Arthur looked as if he was about to faint.

Then, I got the most brilliant idea. "Say, I think I have a way to get rid of your shyness for sure!" I exclaimed. When Arthur merely stared at me, I continued, "We should go to the local tavern and have ourselves some drinks!"

Arthur scoffed. "Do you honestly have any idea what time it is?"

"What? You're not a drinking man?"

"W-well, I can hold my liquor as much as the next person..."

"You haven't drunk a single drop in your life – you probably can't even bring yourself to do so," I smirked. That seemed to irk him a great deal, which was what I had hoped.

Arthur put his face close to mine and sneered, "I have, and can too." With each word he poked onto my chest for emphasize.

I sneered back, "Prove it."

-----

And that was how we both ended up at Old Widow Richmond's tavern, which happened to be where Arthur and his father Lord Kirkland were staying. It actually belong to a Mr. Richmond, but after his death a few years back the missus took over and kept it up and running. It was a popular and lively place, especially at night, when it was ran by the prettiest wenches only Boston could offer, all of them indentured servants to Old Widow Richmond. However, during the day the place was as dead as a doornail, and a friend of mine worked the shift. I would usually (depending on the workload that day) stop by early for a quick pick-me-upper, and always get a generous serving, courtesy of him.

Fortunately for both Arthur and I, the place was deserted and his father had gone down to the harbor since dawn and (according to Arthur) won't be back till evening. That left us the whole morning, and once noon came around we'll head back just in time for Father to be waking up. It's a brilliant scheduled planned by none other than myself.

"Ah, good morning, Alfred," my friend greeted me as we walked in, looking up from his work of polishing the tables.

I waved and smiled at him. "Good morning, Tino. The usual, if you please."

"Of course," he replied with a cheery smile, and went to the bar where the liquors were being kept. Arthur and I took a seat. Within minutes, the drinks were served. Tino smiled at the both of us, though looking more at Arthur, and asked me, "So, who's your new friend?"

"Oh, he's from oversees on business. This is Arthur Kirkland. Arthur, this here is Tino Väinämöinen, an old friend of mine."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Tino, offering his hand. Arthur took it and gave a firm shake and a nod. Tino then turned back to me, "Well, actually, it's a good thing you came in today, Alfred. I have a favor to ask of you; I need to run some errands for the Missus, and since it's pretty light right now, I figured it's a good a time as any. Do you mind watching the place for me, just for a few hours or so?"

"Of course not! You go ahead!"

"Really? Great!" Tino exclaimed, clapping his hands together. He then went away, only to return with a large jug. "Here, something to keep the both of you busy – on the house. If anyone shows up, you know what to do. Well, see you both in a while!" And with that, he left.

Arthur then spoke for the first time since arriving there. "He's got a queer accent," he murmured, rubbing his chin.

"Oh, Tino's Finnish. He's been here as long as I can remember though" I replied, while pouring us both our drinks. "I actually met him through Mattie."

"'Mattie'?"

"My twin brother, Matthew. He went with my uncle up north after my mother died and Father being able to only support one of us at the time. Last I've heard from him, he's in the fur trading business. Learned a bit of French too."

Arthur made a disgusted noise. I looked up and gave him a questioning glance. "The French," he grumbled, "I detest those despicable frogs."

"What's wrong? Bad experience with them?" I then handed him his cup and raised mine. "Cheers."

"You could say that..." He raised his as well and murmured, "Cheers." Our cup clinked against one another and then we downed the liquor.

And then Arthur sprayed his back out. I laughed until tears came out as he blushed and wiped his mouth, sputtering, "B-bloody hell! What the hell is this?!"

"Rum. You never tried it before?" I mused, taking another swallow. "It's really the stuff – good for colds, too."

"It's bloody strong, I'll give you that," gasped Arthur. He took another drink also, and then slammed his hand onto the table. "Shit, I thought you were going to serve wine or something."

"Wine?!" I gasped. "That weak old thing? Boy, you are in America! If you're going to drink, you drink hard. Besides, vineyards don't grow well here; the southern colonies tried that already."

"Oof...Never liked the stuff anyways," Arthur muttered, "Stupid wine-bastard..." He took a large swill and slammed his empty cup down in front of me. "Give me some more." I stifled my laughter with a hand; the blonde's face was already red and his eyes were tearing up from sharp taste of the rum. "Come on, I say, some more."

"Are you sure, Arthur? You look like you're just about done."

He laughed (although it sounded more like a cackle). "Fool, I can take whatever it is you throw out at me. Didn't I say I could hold as much as the next guy?" He then pointed at me with one quivering finger. "Well, guess what, you git? YOU'RE the next guy, and I'm not going down until you do, Mr. Alfred F. Jones. So, like I've said, hit me." Again he slammed his cup in front of me. Just for the sake of the poor table, I think I'll play along.

I grinned at him and finished my own cup. "Alright, so it's a challenge, is it?" I grabbed the jug and began to pour. "First one to pass out has to dance around naked."

Arthur smirked back, his green eyes half-lid and hazy. "Bring it on."

-----

22 cups had gone by, with the jug over half empty. Glad thing Tino had said it was on the house, or all my savings for the month would mysteriously have disappeared. I looked over at Arthur and could hardly contain my laughter. The poor fellow was drifting in and out of consciousness. His cheeks were ruddy from all that rum and his eyes staying completely half-lid. The only reason I knew he's not out was because I could see him staring at me with the determination of not losing, despite his conditions.

Now I, on the other hand, was doing quite well. Unfortunately for Arthur, he just so happened to have gone against the local drinking champion of Boston.

...Okay, so I only ever drank against Tino and maybe a few sailors, but come on – they were SAILORS. Those guys can drink forever. And Tino's a tough fellow too, even if he may not look it with his large innocent eyes and round, baby face. I finally had him passed out after three jugs of cider. So...I must be pretty good, right?

Where was I? Oh yes, so my vision is starting to slightly blur, but I still kept my wit. Like, one plus one is two, A is for apple, and big hand tells hours and little hand tells birdies when to come out – that sort of thing. Yep, I'm still perfectly fine.

I heard Arthur mumble something, snapping me out of my daydream. I leaned in to hear a bit better. "What?"

"-mdsfdfgsgh....hit...me..." he mumbled into the tabletop. He nudged his cup towards me, or the direction he thinks was toward me. It was actually going to fall over the table.

I sighed and rescued before it could and poured into it. "Why don't you just give it up? You know you can't win-"

"I ssssooooo can toooooo," he suddenly yelled, lifting his head up. He turned to me and pointed at my face, all the while slurring, "I can dooo it yoooooooouuuuuu goopid sit. You think you're sooooooo much better than the rest of us, but I'll tell you what. You're not such a bright sunny side up egg yourselves, you. Yeah, you!" And then, he suddenly burst into laughter and starts hitting the table. I quickly moved the jug and cups over to the next, all the while staring at him. But he wasn't done. Now, he started to cry instead, and was bawling as loudly as he possibly could, "Waaaaaah! You stupid git! Stupid stupid stupid stupid bearded wine-loving freak of git! Curse you and your stupid beard! Curse you and your expensive wine! Curse you and your tasty cuisine and cooking, you stupid stupid git! Waaaaaaah!" And then he collapsed onto the tabletop.

...Now, I've seen quite a few drunks, but this has to be the strangest one yet. I cautiously walked over and patted his cheek. "Arthur? Hey, Arthur? Are you okay?"

One eye fluttered open, revealing hazy green. Arthur looked up at me and gave me an odd smile. "Hey," he whispered. I sighed in relief; he wasn't dead after all.

"Yeah?" I whispered back. I looked around for a blanket or some sort of sheet, then remembering the stock of fresh linen kept in the storage cupboard under the stairs, I went to retrieve one and placed it over his shoulders. I whispered to him, "If you need to sleep it off, go ahead. Or do you want me to take you back up to your room?"

He merely stared at me with that same odd smile on his face, and then asked, "Do you remember yesterday?"

I chuckled nervously. "Yes-"

"You know, there's other ways to tell a person to shut the bloody fuck up," he murmured, as he rested his heads on his arms.

I stared at him in question, wondering what exactly he was leading at. "Yes, I understand..."

"You can cover his mouth with a hand, for example. Even a simple finger will do..." How can he talk so low and so soft like that? I'm really straining my ears just to hear him. And yet, I'm afraid to get any closer to him. Something about his eyes and something in my brain telling me there's something wrong, something dangerous about him right now. I was never one to listen to my instinct, but if I did, it would be telling me right now to not look into those green pools of his. Like he's trying to lure me in...Arthur was moving his mouth, but nothing came out.

"What did you say?" Again he did it, that odd smile present on his lips. I leaned in closer, smiling nervously. "I really can't hear y-" And then I stopped myself, as he brought one hand up and ghosted it along my bruised cheek as if caressing it, before putting it around my neck. Gently he pulled me closer, until our noses were practically touching. I felt my breath faltered as our lips then connected, slowly and gently. A strange sensation welled up inside of me; I can't really describe it yet. But one thing's for sure, I never want to lose such a feeling as this. We then broke off, stared at each other, and then resumed with short, brief kisses, each more passionate than the last.

For a minute or so we went on until Arthur let go of my neck and broke off. I licked my lips, and remembered thinking how sweet his lips were, probably from the liquor lingering on them. Arthur did the same before giving me one last smile, and then suddenly slumped forward, his forehead banging against the wooden table top. I slowly stood up and then gasped, suddenly remembering how to breathe. Just as I collapsed back into my chair, the front door opened.

"Oh, still here, are you?" Tino asked as he struggled through the door with several large baskets of goods. I smiled weakly and got up to help him. Once all the goods were placed in the kitchen, we both turned our attention to Arthur, who was sleeping peacefully as far as we could tell.

Tino sighed. "So, how much of the bottle did you finished?"

"Just a little over half," I answered. "But he was gone by our 3rd cup, I think."

"Ah. Halfway to Concord, is he?"

I turned to stare at him. "Where did you come up with that?"

"Farmers' Almanac, by that fellow Benjamin Franklin, you know." Tino paused and scratched his head. "Or maybe it was from one of the letters printed in the Pennsylvanian Gazette that Berswald keep sending me. Don't know why he keeps doing that, though."

We both stood around in silence while Arthur slept on, occasionally jerking suddenly in his sleep. I cleared my throat and muttered, "So...I guess we should put him to bed."

Tino shrugged. "Probably. Be bad for the Missus if we were leave one of her customers out here." We then grabbed each of his arms and gently swung them around our necks. It was hard trying to keep him steady since Tino was shorter than me as well, but we managed to lug him back to his room and tucked him in. After that, I spent an hour with Tino as he made me some food and we exchanged news, before I finally headed back home.

Arthur never met with Father that day, so whatever adjustments he had about the order was never confirmed.

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...Is it me, or is Arthur bipolar? XD

(Drunken Arthur reveals spoilers? Finland makes a cameo? Matthew is remembered? And I gots hits from ITALY?! I like this new story stats system!)

Again, reviews are happiness. People get happy when they receive positive encouragements via e-mails, or so the fanfic "Connection" proves. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** Thank you so much to those who have favorite/alert/(and especially) reviewed this story. I'm truly thankful to know that this story (especially how corny it is) has such wonderful supportive readers such as yourselves. Please have a cookie on my behalf. XD

Also, sorry about the extreme delay (1 month, is it?), and thank you for waiting patiently. It was a rather difficult chapter to write, and even though I finished it still didn't turn out the way I'd hope (even with a friend's help). I also think it's because I rarely go on , so I'm thinking of perhaps moving the story to DeviantArt, which is the site I go on the most. What do you all think - would it be better if I move the story to DA? Not only is it more likely to get updated (I think it's easier to), but then you can get to see some fanart accompanying this fanfic! Or should I just upload it onto both? Eh? XD

Well, anyhow, here's chapter 3. I hope it (still) lives up to your expectations! Enjoy~

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**~ Fairytale ~**

* * *

It was probably safe to say that Arthur and I had gotten closer. The next day when he showed up and asked Father about Lord Kirkland's changes (since we were...occupied the day before), he didn't completely ignored me or spat out at me as he did when we first met. Sure, we had a few moments of bickering and fights, but it has gotten to be more like childish teasing than actual hostility towards one another. He's still a complete and stuck up jerk; personally, I blame his upbringing.

Take, for example, the week after, when he came to call out of the blue. I had walked into the parlor only to find him on the couch, sitting as if he owned the place. My first reactions to seeing him was thinking, "Oh look, it's Arthur," "Where's Father?", and "How did you even get in here?"

"About time you got up," was the first thing he said upon seeing me. "How about some tea, for God's sake? I'm getting parched here just waiting for you."

I rubbed my eyes, just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. "Arthur? What are you-" I was cut off by Arthur loudly clearing his throat. He stared at me with one fuzzy raised brow and nudged his head to the kitchen, as if suggesting me I had some important business in there. I merely sighed in defeat and trudged toward there. "One lump or two?"

"Five, if you please," was his happy reply. I sighed again, and winced as I took down the sugar jar. Honestly, doesn't the guy know that the Sugar Act was still in effect? When I told him that, he merely laughed and said, "So pay the bloody taxes! It's not as if the money's going to waste anyways."

"Yeah, well, not all of us here have money to throw around, like _some_ people," I grumbled. Only 35 sugar cubes left...I'm going to have to talk to Tino soon about when the new shipment comes in.

"Yes, I suppose so. Not everyone here can hope to achieve _that_ much money, no matter _how_ long they must work for, in order to just throw it around like some people." ...Ooh, that cheeky bastard.

"Here's your stupid tea," I grumbled, shoving him his drink. He smirked up at me and took a dainty sip. "I don't see how you could like that drink. Give me coffee or cider any day, I say."

"Tea is a drink of gentry. I wouldn't expect a ruffian like you to understand anyway," Arthur sneered. I felt myself twitching from wanting to strangle him. But then, I thought of a better, more efficient solution to wipe that smirk off his face. A long, overdue solution...

I sat down next to him and began to hum. Next to me, Arthur's body tensed up, as if he was expecting me to do something. He's a rather impatient guy, because within a few seconds he immediately snapped at me, "Do you have something to say, Jones?!"

I turned and smiled cheerily at him. "Hey, Artie...I haven't seen you around this past week. What were you up to?"

He groaned and took another sip of his tea. "None of your business."

"Oh, come now – don't be that way," I chided, "I mean, it's all rather random. You were gone for a whole week, and then you decided to show up now? I wonder what it is that could possibly keep you absent for so long..."

Arthur scoffed and grumbled something along the lines of "a lot of reasons" before taking another sip. I kept smiling, waiting for the chance to spring the question.

"Do you remember that bet we made?"

At that comment, Arthur sprayed the tea back out and began to stammered, "I-I-I h-have-" I chuckled inwardly and inched closer to him, which caused him to become even more flustered. Really, teasing the guy was just too much fun!

"You didn't think that I would have forgotten...did you?" I leaned in and whispered. Whenever I did something like that, he would turn redder by the moment. It was a funny reaction, since I never turn that way myself; at least, not to my knowledge.

When he didn't answer, I prodded further in a sing-song manner, "What was it? First one to pass out has to dance na-"

There was a loud slap. One moment, I was staring at him, and the next I was staring at the couch across from me. I heard his voice stammering, "H-How dare you!" When I looked up at him, his cheeks were that same tomato shade from the first day we met; what was different was that he wasn't crying. At least, not anytime soon, though his eyes shown that they were threatening to.

I sighed and rubbed my poor cheek (really, the lad didn't know his own strength), leaning back against the couch as I did so. Since I could still feel his eyes on me, most likely expecting some form of apology, I muttered, "Well, it wasn't as if I was serious about it or anything...but a bet is a bet."

Arthur scoffed again and coolly replied, "That one doesn't count." I raised an eye at him. What was he, some sort of child?

"It was an agreement between men."

"I was intoxicated at the time," he muttered. Oh, so NOW you admit to your low tolerance, do you? "Besides, we never shook on it."

I smirked and sneered quietly, "You didn't oppose to it at the time though." At that moment, I immediately turned and caught Arthur's hand in midair, much to his surprise. The little prince really needed to learn how to control his temper, not to mention come off his high chair once in a while. "Ha! Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me! Don't think I'll be taking any more of your blows, _Artie_!"

What I had expected was his flustered look and maybe some yelling of sorts as he tries to wring away from my grip. What I didn't expect and got was a smirk and a quick punch to my stomach by Arthur's other _free_ hand. Needless to say, I doubled over from having the wind suddenly knocked out from me and let go. As I clutched at my stomach, I could hear him laughing away obnoxiously and saying, "Shame on you indeed, Jones! You shouldn't underestimate your opponents so easily in the first place." Hmm...that gives me an idea...

"Oh! Ugh..." I moaned, hugging myself harder. I contorted my face as much as I possibly could till tears began welling up in the corner of my eyes. It was only when my whole body began to shake did Arthur stopped laughing and fell silent.

"...Jones?"

On that cue, I fell off the couch and began to roll around on the floor, clutching at my stomach. I moaned and coughed for an added measure to my performance. Even through blurred and squinted vision, I could tell that he was beginning to freak out. Well, that and the tone in his voice suddenly changing to a concerned one. "Al-Alfred? Alfred!"

"Ugh..." My body went limp and my eyes shut. Silence settled in for a while before Arthur's panicked breathing could be heard. I mentally grinned in delight at how much he was falling for my performance – any moment now and he'll...

"ALFRED?!" Arthur practically screamed into my ears as he collapsed to the floor next to me (I heard a loud thud, though that was easily muffled by the sound of his voice). I could feel his hands grabbing at my shoulders and shaking me fervently. "Alfred? Alfred! Wait, you can't...no...you can't...!" My face slowly felt warm, probably due to close contact. The craziest idea ran through my mind, thinking that Arthur's face was few inches away from mine...No, wait – bad Alfred! Dead people don't think about such things! Quick, think of things dead people would think of so you could pretend to be dead! Um, dead babies...dead puppies...dead flowers...Arthur's soft lips...dead flowers...dead kittens...

...Hmm, what do dead people think of when they're dead anyway?

"Alfred?" I heard his voice again, except this time in a quiet, frighten whisper. It was a shock to me at first, since I was so used to hearing him either yelling or having this cocksure tone in his voice. I hoped I didn't show any sort of reaction on my face, otherwise my whole plan would be ruined. "Alfred..." It was kind of sad, actually, to hear him speak like this. And then, a thought crossed my mind: would it be only in this sort of situation that Arthur would speak to me like that?

My face felt rather hot just now. Odd...

"Alfred, look, I'm..." A pause. "...I'm..." Another pause. "Alfred..." Oh, Arthur, please – get on with it, man! I haven't got all day to play pretend. "...I may not have known you for that long, but...please...please...you can't..."

Something soft pressed against my lips, moist and gentle. It felt as if my breath was being sucked away. I slowly opened one eye, just to find Arthur closed one directly in front of me. Well...this wasn't something I had expected...I could see the pink tinges of his cheeks and...Is that a caterpillar on his forehead?! Oh wait, that's just his eyebrow.

The game was done; I reached out and grabbed hold of Arthur around his waist. His eyes flew open in surprise and he gasped, breaking off his kiss. He looked at me and asked, his voice a mixture of relief and confusion, "Al-Alfred?"

I licked my lips and smirked. "Never knew you were one for fairytales, Artie." Arthur stared at me, and his face quickly became flushed at the realization that I had been playing him all this time.

"You-you-!!!" he stammered, backing away from me, "what's the meaning of this?!"

I grinned slyly at him. "I should be asking you the same thing. Now I really do fear for my life if that sort of situation should arise again and I only had you with me." When Arthur continued to stare widely at me, his mouth slightly agape in shock and surprise, I continued on, "Really now, who would have thought that the son of the noble and esteemed Lord Kirkland, the same guy who claims that I'm an idiot, believed that a kiss on the lips would bring people back from the dead? Even I know that no one in their sane mind would try to reenact a fairytale when someone's life was at stake; the least you could have done was go look for help or my father. I mean, what were you thinking-"

"YOU GIT!" Arthur yelled as he threw himself on me, tackling me to the ground. I yelped in surprise when I landed on my back to the floor, and then in pain as his fingers dug into my shoulders in a tight, firm hold. "You bloody, low class...ass!" he practically seethed into my face, "how dare you make a mockery out of me!" He increased the pressure of his hold, digging into my skin enough to make me cry out. I tried to push his hands away, but the lad had hands like a cat has claws; once he gets a hold, he just won't let go. "I'll show you who you're dealing with, peasant..."

At this point, I was getting pretty sick of his holier-than-thou attitude toward me. I stopped resisting (lest I want to waste my energy fighting back from a disadvantage position) and firmly placed my hands on his arms instead. "You don't want me to get serious, Arthur," I warned him.

"Try me, you insufferable git! Dumb-witted simpleton! Son of a whore!" Arthur threw out every possible curse at me he could think of. Too bad they were poor choice of words. I snapped at the last comment he made; no one disrespect my mother and get away with it.

"Shouldn't have said that, Artie," I smirked. I grabbed hold of his arms and swiftly brought my legs up from underneath him, knocking the wind out of him. His hold on me relaxed, allowing me to push him off of me and to top him instead, turning the tables. As he coughed and gasped for air, I grabbed hold of his neck. I leaned in and stared him down. "Now, say you're sorry."

He fought back like a city boy; a big wad of spit flew right between my eyes, on the bridge of my nose. Next came several kicks and we ended up tussling. We wrestled around violently on the floor, occasionally bumping into the couch and the coffee table. He knew no dignity, biting and scratching at me at any given moment. He cursed and called me different names as he threw punches; I was restraining myself for most of the time, but after he made another crack about my mother being a woman of lowly profession, I let my fists fly loose as well.

We must have been fighting for a couple of minutes or so, but it felt like an eternity. Only when our tussling caused the tea cup to shatter were we brought back to our senses. We both turned our heads to the foot of the table, where the china laid shattered in neat little pieces. Arthur was the first to react. "Now look at what you did, you big oaf!"

"Me?!" I yelled at him. "Look at what YOU did! If you hadn't knocked me so hard into the table, this probably would never have happened!"

"Really now?" he seethed, "and whose bright idea was it that started this whole mess by pretending to play dead?"

"Well, none of this would have happened if you hadn't been acting like such a high and mighty prince!"

"Well then, none of this would have happened if you didn't make that silly little bet in the first place!"

"Then you shouldn't have acted as if you were made of glass and be more open around people – I'm tired of trying to figure you out!" Arthur stared at me as I gave a weak shrug and sighed, "The real you. I've been so confused ever since I've met you, like the way you act and what you really mean; the hostility act that you put on to cover your shyness. It's driving me mad!"

There was a moment of silent – all that could be heard was our heavy breathing from all the wrestling around that we did. It was broken by Arthur's soft reply, "Then, you're at fault then, for making me so unsure of myself." I looked up at him, puzzled. "Ever since I've met you, I've been confused of...as to what to do." He sighed and lay back against the floor, covering his face with his arm. It was some time before he continued, "Perhaps it was best if we had never met."

I scratched my head in puzzlement. Then it hit me at that moment; there was no other explanation – Arthur felt the same way as I did. I blushed at that realization and turned away. "Now, that's kind of an extreme conclusion. I'm rather glad that we met, actually," I said sheepishly as I crawled over to the broken mess.

I began to pick up the pieces when I heard him softly whispered, "Thanks." I turned my head back to find him smiling at me. His small smile was so sincere and his green eyes shone with warmth for the first time. My heart just stopped in its track. I felt my face grew warm and quickly turned back to my work. Moments later I felt his presence by me and together we picked up the pieces in somewhat comfortable silence.

"...I'll have Father replace the cup," Arthur offered once we were done. I shook my head and grinned.

"Don't worry, I'll use my earnings. Besides, it was old anyways. It would have cracked sooner or later." I noticed Arthur's constant looks towards my hands, and when I followed it, I sighed. On my left hand, a big, bright drop of red was beginning to form at the tip of my index finger. Somehow, in the process of cleaning up the broken pieces of china, I must have cut it. I looked up at Arthur and nudged my head toward the staircase. "Come up to my room?" When he stared at me in confusion, I explained, "You look like a mess." His unruly hair was even more unruly thanks to our little fight, not to mention his shirt soiled, covered in thin streaks of blood from wiping his cut lips and gray layers of dirt and dust from rolling around on the floor. "I have an extra shirt I can lend you before you leave."

He scoffed, "You're no sight for sore eyes yourself." I looked down at myself and laughed. He was right; from what I can tell, he did quite a number on me: he managed to not only tear at my shirt but gave me several cuts that could be mistaken for a wild animal attack. There was also a faint bite mark on my right wrist from when he tried to bite me. "I'll tend to it," he offered. I smiled gratefully and headed on up stair, with him following.

Say, I wonder where Father had been this whole time...

-----

"...and I'm sorry for calling your mother a whore," conclude Arthur as he sat on my bed. I raised an eye at him.

"And...?"

He sighed and added, "And for calling her a bitch and harlot. There, I've made my amends. Satisfied?"

I smiled. "That will do, young Lord Kirkland. That will do." I pulled off my dirtied shirt and toss it to the ground. I'll have to remember to mend it soon, even if I'm all thumbs when it came to needlework. Perhaps I could ask Old Widow Richmond...No, I couldn't ask that of her, especially with her eyesight the way it is she'll probably make a mess of it more than I will. There's always Tino, but that's embarrassing...

"...Do you want me to mend it for you?" ask Arthur, breaking my train of thought. I snapped out of my daze and smiled sheepishly at him.

"How did you know I was thinking about that?"

"You've been staring at that shirt with wide eyes for the past minute now," he smirked. I picked up the shirt and handed it to him. "Give me your needle as well."

"I never took you to actually do something," I remarked, handing him his tool.

Arthur rolled his eyes and began to work. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he replied.

I smiled and washed up a bit at the basin before sitting down beside him. I couldn't believe how he could deftly thread a needle in record time and then proceeded to sew with such ease. "Well then, I'd like to know more about you," I said, though a little deeper than I have intended. Arthur stole a glance at me and then flushed. Well, that's weird. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"...Put on a shirt, will you?"

I scoffed. "I can't – you're fixing it."

"Then put on another."

"What's wrong, Artie? It's not like I've anything to hide – or anything you haven't seen," I laughed, about to place my arm around him. He shrugged it off and scooted some distance away from me.

"It's indecent," he muttered, before tying the thread. He thrust the shirt roughly into my hands and said, "There, finished. Now you may wear it."

I grinned at him. Not once since he stole a glance did he looked at me, let alone faced in my direction. It was as if he was deliberately trying to avoid seeing my half-nakedness. Rather old-fashion of him, if you ask me. "Say, Arthur?" I asked.

"What?" he asked back flatly.

"Look at me."

I saw his gaze flickered for a moment, unsure of what to do. He half-smiled and scoffed, "Pardon?"

"You heard me – look at me."

It was a while before Arthur complied, and his gaze wavered from the ground to finally at me. He still avoided my face and was starting to flush again. I myself felt rather strange; the way he stared at me made me feel odd, trapped and unable to move. Even my voice was hitched in my throat. "See?" I managed to croak out, "there's nothing for me to hide." Yet what was unsettling about it all was this sudden urge and want welling up inside. I wanted him close. I wanted him to move closer. I wanted to feel his touch. I wanted to feel him-

"Alfred?" gasped Arthur, snapping me out of my daydream. I looked down at him-wait, why am I even looking down in the first place?-and gasped; somehow I got so lost in my thoughts that I had unknowingly pushed him down on my bed and crawled onto of him. Arthur stared wide-eyes up at me, his face blushing and in shock. I let out another gasp when I realized that I had my hands pinning down on his wrists, over his head. I released my grip and held my hands in sincerity.

"A-Arthur, I can explain..." I began, though I knew there was nothing to explain; how would I even begin to explain, anyways? I tried to stammer some sort of excuse, hoping the lad wouldn't go into another one of his violent "shy" moments, but then something odd happened.

Arthur reached up and slid his arms around my neck, slowly bringing me back down over him. As I stared into those green pools of his, my mind went blank. All I could remember were bits and pieces, actions that were controlled by some higher, greater force.

I think he was doing most of it, anyways.

His hands pushed down on my back, prompting me to lie on top of him (I heard him grunt softly in my ears as he took all of my weight). He ran one hand in my hair, caressing each tress, and the other down my back. He whispered something in my ears and rolled me over to the side, so that our roles were reversed and he was on top. A soft kiss – again his lips were warm, though there was a faint coppery taste from the cut – and his hands roamed over my bare chest. His kisses trailed lower, down to my neck, and again I heard more of his soft muttering. A sharp pressure – I gasped. My skin tingled and as I arched my neck he sucked harder. This feeling...It felt so good –

Arthur stopped, and looked up. In my daze, I wondered sadly why the feeling had to end, but that was quickly as another, much stronger feeling took over – dread. Now I heard it too, and propped myself up, staring towards the door. It moved slightly with each hard knock. "Alfred?" I heard my name being called by an all too familiar voice, though muffled. "Alfred? Are you in there?"

Arthur and I simultaneously stared at one another. Then at ourselves. Then back at each other. Without saying anything, we knew we were thinking of the exact same word: fuck. There were three more knocks and then total silence from what I assumed to be my father leaving for downstairs. We both sighed in relief before panic seized Arthur. "Now what am I supposed to do?!" he hissed at me.

"You?! What am** I** supposed to do!" I hissed back. "I'M the one he's looking for!"

"Well, that's your bloody problem, isn't it? How am I suppose to go back down the stairs now – he'll be down there, waiting to greet me, and then how am I supposed to bloody explain why I was up in his son's bloody room?!"

"You could always tell the truth," I said with a smile. One look from Arthur was enough to convince me that, yes, that's probably the stupidest idea that I've ever come up with. Well, there was this one time...

Arthur groaned and covered his face. "Oh God, what have I done to deserve this?" I was about the open my mouth, but thought better. Good thing too, since a better idea did came to me.

"You can use the window!" I whispered excitedly. Arthur gave me a questioningly glance, so I explained, "I used to sneak out a lot at nights back then with Mattie. We'd always keep this long rope hidden in this room for that purpose, so every night we'd tie it to the foot of Mattie's bed for support and then climb down it."

"Mattie's bed? Why his bed?"

"Because it was the closest to the window."

"Really now? And where is this rope now?"

"Last I've remember it was hidden under his mattress," I replied with a smile. Arthur smiled back, though his was more peeved than happy.

"Really now? And where is Mattie's bed?"

I opened my mouth, and then quickly closed it upon realizing. Well, there goes one brilliant idea. However, Arthur was not one to be beater. "I suppose you do have a point with that idea," he muttered. He then eyed the sheets we were lying on top of and then asked, "Why don't we simply use these sheets? Then we can make a makeshift rope of sort."

"Like in one of your fairytales?" I snickered. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"There is some truth to fairytales, you best remember that."

"Right, right," I replied, "Well, let's get to it, if Master Kirkland as to kindly get off of me." The other lad turned pink and quickly got off, muttering something along the lines of "sorry." I laughed and told him to shake it off, and proceeded to work. Within a few minutes, a rope was made.

"Here," I said, tossing him Arthur a clean shirt as he was ready to descend. He smiled gratefully.

"Thanks."

"You know, you don't need a reason to stop by," I told him, as I moved the bed closer to the window and tied to rope to one of the legs. I tugged on it to make sure. Good, nice and tight.

Arthur paused over the window sill. "...I know," he murmured.

"So, see you tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

"You still owe me a dance."

"Hmph, as if," he smirked. Arthur then gave me a salute before climbing out of the window. I went over and poke my head out to make sure he made it down safely. Once he set foot on the grass, I proceeded to quickly hoist the sheet rope up. Then I watched him ran off into the streets, until he was out of sight. For some reason, my heart felt heavy. Loneliness gripped me. I shook my head, hoping that the feelings will fade away, and shut the window. It was then the knocks returned.

"Hello, Father," I replied, opening the door. Father looked down at me in surprise.

"You've been here the whole time?" I nodded. "How long did you plan on sleeping, boy? It's way past afternoon!"

"I'm sorry, Father...I think I may be coming down with something..." It wasn't exactly a lie right now; my head was starting to ache and my body felt warm still.

Father nodded his head in concern. "It's probably from that big spider bite you've got there on your neck." On my neck? "Make sure you see to it, and catch that spider soon. The weather's starting to get chilly, so those varmints are bound to show up in the house." I told him I will. "Get some rest then, for we start work tomorrow."

"Yes, Father. Thank you, Father." He smiled, ruffled my hair, and then headed back downstairs, probably to the workshop. I sighed and shut the door.

I went over to the basin and looked into the mirror. He was right; it DID look like a spider bite. I touched the red spot and felt a thin slick of liquid coating it.

–_Arthur trailed lower, sucking my neck-_

A deep sigh emerged from me, unlike any other I've heard. My legs began to feel wobbly and I had to grab hold of the table for support. I imagined Arthur, from his face and expressions to his actions. Again a strange feeling of urge and desire welled up. I felt myself growing warmer as I couldn't help but remember those sweet lips and eyes of his, and how his nimble hands felt as they ran along my body, lower and lower –

I quickly doused water into my face, thankful as the coldness snapped me back to my senses. I stared up at the mirror, my face flushed as droplets of water rolled down. My heavy breathing filled the quiet, tiny room. "...I need some sleep," I muttered, to no one in particular. Wiping my face with the back of my arm, I trudged back to my bed and fell into it. Today's events had drained me, and slowly I drifted off into sweet slumber.

The last conscious thing I remember thinking was how this bed had his scent all over it.

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Pfft, and you think Alfred's trying to take advantage of poor uke Arthur. He's the real victim here, really. ^^

Thank you so much again for reading. Remember, reviews are very loved. And also, please keep in mind that it'll be a while before the next update, thanks to school and whatnot. Have a lovely day, and may it be storm free.


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